The Summit
by Elf Eye
Summary: Gandalf and Saruman spar with one another on the top of the tower of Orthanc.


**I am suffering from severe fan fiction withdrawal and have rushed to post this without even waiting for a beta reading. _Joee_, good luck.**

**The Summit**

He strode to his throne, began to ascend it, but then abruptly turned and once again began to pace the chamber.

"I only ask him to act in his own interest! Does he want to die? Does he? One would think he did!"

Involuntarily, he looked up, as if his vision could bore through the ceiling to the platform where Gandalf, alone, awaited his fate.

"There he sits, stubborn old fool. If he is uncomfortable, be sure that it is not my fault! He has only to agree to act on his own behalf. That is all I ask of him, that he listen to reason and take such steps as will preserve his life. I would save him! Yes, I would save him from his own folly. But will he see this? No! He could be standing by my side at this very moment, my second in command and enjoying my good offices."

Saruman grew angry as he spoke.

"I offer him safety, yet he rejects my favor as if it were not worthy of his attention. He is not only foolish but ungrateful. Surely I owe him no further consideration. He has chosen his fate, and I can only regret that he has chosen so ill. Paw! I will wash my hands of this matter."

Yet the Istar continued to pace, as if not convinced by his own words. At length he was interrupted by a half-goblin who sidled into the room. The wizard checked his pacing and glowered at the creature.

"Why do you disturb me?" he hissed. The goblin cowered.

"Master, it is time to distribute the rations. Do you want summat sent up to the prisoner atop the tower?"

Saruman considered.

"No," he said at last. "Perhaps hunger will sharpen his wits."

Saruman waved dismissively at the creature, but the goblin shuffled his feet uneasily and did not withdraw.

"Well," the wizard said impatiently. "What else would you know?"

"It has been raining these several hours, Master. The Captain is fearful lest the prisoner take ill and die before he kin be properly questioned. He wants ter know if the prisoner ought ter be given a blanket or mebbe brought down and stowed in one o' the cells."

"The prisoner is chilled, is he?"

"'Pears to be, Master."

"Then if hunger does not sharpen his wits, mayhap the cold will make them keener. He is to be provided with neither food nor shelter."

"Nor water, Master?"

"Ah," said Saruman coolly, "as it is raining, he has water enough."

"Very well, Master."

The half-goblin scuttled away, leaving Saruman once more alone with his thoughts.

"Let us see," he mused, "how long the grey fool is proof against hunger, cold, and thirst. At length I shall offer him a choice: he may stand well-fed and well-clad by my side, or he may become the companion of the vultures who roost hereabouts. When he sees that death will be the inevitable outcome of his stubbornness, surely then he will see how he must choose." The Istar grew magnanimous at the prospect of bending Gandalf to his will. "I will even let him smoke that wretched pipe of his," he exclaimed. "That should keep him happy. Yes, he will learn that I shall see to his comfort once he has given over his stubbornness and folly."

Atop the tower at this very moment, the other wizard was trying not to give way to bewilderment and despair. Like his fellow, he had been pacing; now he stood looking down into the Ring of Isengard. After Gandalf had been imprisoned, Saruman had abandoned all pretence. Orcs had come swarming from their dens, and Gandalf could see them far below him, felling the trees that had once made Isengard a place of beauty. From pits hitherto hidden issued forth plumes of smoke. The trees of Isengard were being burned.

"To what end would he destroy those trees," worried Gandalf, "if not to feed fires of industry in which he forges weapons for those Orcs? Against whom will he send them? The folk of Rohan dwell nearest. I suspect it is they who will bear the brunt of Saruman's treachery. Would that I could warn them! How foolish I have been, to walk so blindly into a trap!"

Upbraiding himself for his folly, Gandalf resumed pacing. As he walked back and forth in that narrow space, in his mind he rehearsed all the long years of his friendship with Saruman—what he thought had been his friendship with Saruman.

'When did he begin to turn traitor?' he wondered. 'I am sure that for many years he did indeed strive to serve the Free Folk of Middle-earth, obedient to those who sent us here for that very task. I am also certain that there was a time when he regarded me with respect, if not affection. I remember that occasion when I was waylaid by Orcs in the very south of Dunland, quite near to the Gap of Rohan. I made my painful way through the Gap and collapsed at the feet of a patrol of Rohirrim who conveyed me straightaway to Isengard, for they did not think I would survive a journey to Edoras. Saruman nursed me for weeks as I hovered 'twixt life and death. Whenever I roused from my fever, I found him sitting by my side, and I do not believe that his look of concern was feigned! No, to him I was one to whom he felt kinship, both of us being strangers in a strange land. He had then but newly adopted Isengard as his abode and had not even made the acquaintance of the Ents. In his isolation, he always welcomed me, eager not only for news but for companionship'.

Gandalf found himself again looking down into the Ring of Isengard. The Orcs were doing their work all too well. The area nearest the base of the tower was now all but denuded of trees, and the Orcs had moved on to attack trees further off.

'How did he come to this?' he wondered. 'Perhaps he spent so much time walled off in Isengard that he lost sight of his place in Arda. If only I could have prevailed upon him to accompany me to the Shire, to Lothlórien—even to Gondor, which, although its glory is now much reduced, is still a place that provokes awe. If he had journeyed to these and other places, perhaps he would never have forgotten who it was he came to serve. Instead, now he seeks only to serve himself, even though he claims that he puts himself above others for their own good. Perhaps he has thus convinced himself that his motives are noble, but I do not believe him!'

'Of course', he continued in his musings, 'I mustn't forget the ill influence of the Palantír. Yet I suspect he was corrupted even before he looked into that globe—else why did he hide from us all the fact that he had acquired one? Had he been honest in his dealing with us—with me!—at one of our councils he would have revealed its existence. No, the Palantír is not to blame. Saruman had made his decision before ever he gazed into it. Of course, each time he used it, his corruption grew the deeper. It is like the Ring in that respect—but I must keep all thoughts of _that_ out of my mind. Saruman may be listening!'

With such thoughts Gandalf occupied the long hours. At last, exhausted, he sat down upon the wet platform, leaning back against one of the fang-like posts that ornamented its edge. The column provided a little protection from the driving rain, and Gandalf knew that he needed to marshal as much of his strength as possible.

"My trials have only begun," he muttered. "Saruman has not killed me. He must still have hopes of winning me over. I suppose I should be flattered that he thinks I may be of use, but I can only imagine what means he will employ to secure my services."

The wizard shuddered a little. The Istar inhabited the body of a Man and could feel pain like any human. He had already had some experience along those lines and was not inclined to repeat the experiment. At length, though, even those unpleasant thoughts could not keep him awake, and he dozed off.

When he awoke, he found that he had slid down the post and was lying curled up on his side. Groaning a little, he pushed himself up.

"You did not find your bed comfortable?" came a sardonic voice, and Gandalf startled a little.

"Saruman."

"Good morning, my old friend."

"Friend?" said Gandalf bitterly.

"Of course," replied Saruman, his voice gentle as of old. "If you trouble yourself to give counsel to one who has need of it, would you not consider yourself his friend?"

"If my motive were only to gain advantage for myself, then, no, I would not consider myself his friend. It is likelier that I would be his foe."

Saruman looked astonished and aggrieved.

"My dear Gandalf, surely you do not consider me to be your foe!"

"I do," Gandalf replied firmly.

"I do not see why. I have only done what I thought best."

"I see. You thought it best to imprison me here, bruised and bloody, with no food or shelter, in a cold, driving rain. You have a singular idea of what is 'best'."

"Regrettably, no other course presented itself to me. I could hardly have let you rush off in a fury. Had I done so, it is likely you would have acted precipitously, to the great grief of us all. But, come now, Gandalf, any pains that you have suffered can be remedied. I shall supply you with salve for your bruises, food for your stomach, and clothes for your back. You shall want for nothing."

"And what shall be the price for your generosity?" asked Gandalf sarcastically.

Saruman looked puzzled.

"Price? I do not understand. Why must you speak in such mercenary terms? I ask for nothing in return for my kindness."

"I do not believe you," said Gandalf bluntly.

Saruman sighed wearily.

"Gandalf, I am trying to be patient, but you provoke me almost past endurance. I had hoped this day to break fast with you, aye, and before a comfortable fire, but I see that you are not in the mood for such a repast. I shall return later to see whether you are in a friendlier frame of mind. Think on it, my friend."

Left once more to himself, Gandalf began to pace again, trying to ignore the sounds being made by his stomach.

'Perhaps', he said to himself after awhile, 'I should have dissembled and gotten myself a breakfast. But, no', he suddenly corrected himself, 'I should be giving him an opening if I did. Come what may, I must hold fast'.

Saruman meanwhile had returned to his chamber, where breakfast awaited him. To his consternation, he could take no pleasure in the meal. "I should have the cook whipped," he raged. "He has sent up food meant for Orcs, I am sure of it. How dare he presume to do so! I am no Orc! I am noble, a member of an order high and puissant. I am no Orc!"

The noble Saruman waited a full day, until the following morning, before he again assayed Gandalf 's strength. He stood before his captive, in one hand bearing a flagon, in the other a bowl from which steam arose. Gandalf tried to ignore the aroma of meat cooked with vegetables and spices. Saruman, however, had decided to try another tack. He held out the food and drink, proffering them to the other wizard. Gandalf looked at him suspiciously.

"You have drugged them."

Saruman shrugged.

"I had considered doing so," he said casually, "but all drugs wear off in time, and, if you experienced no change of heart, we would be back where we began. No, you must choose to ally yourself with me."

"Ah, well, if you mean to give me a choice, then allow me to depart Isengard. I shall send you my answer."

Saruman put on a smile.

"Ah, Gandalf, you amuse me. Indeed, that is one reason you are still alive."

"I am very grateful," said Gandalf dryly.

"Come! come! See how we spar one with the other. There is no Elf, no Man, and surely no Halfling, with whom you can converse on terms of equality. They are beneath you—far beneath you."

"As I stand upon the summit of a tower, that is true."

This time Saruman's 'smile' was clearly only a thinly veiled grimace.

"Put a Man upon the highest peak, aye, crown him King of Gondor, and he would still be beneath you. Your alliance with such creatures is an unnatural one."

"If that is so, then your alliance with Orcs is even more unnatural."

In a rage, Saruman threw down both flagon and bowl, and they shattered upon the flagstones. He turned around and seized his staff from the sullen half-goblin who stood holding it for him. Gandalf braced himself as the Lord of Isengard advanced upon him, staff upraised. But Saruman hesitated and slowly lowered his staff.

"I do not wish to hurt you, Gandalf," he said, almost piteously. Then he spun about and addressed the half-goblin.

"You see to it," he ordered as he strode away, leaving Gandalf alone with the now-smirking servant, who pulled a cudgel from his belt.

Hours later Gandalf slowly regained consciousness. As he did so, he heard the sound of wings. Gingerly, he turned his head in the direction of the noise. Crows were landing on the platform and had begun to scavenge the bits of meat lying amidst the shards of the bowl. Suddenly, the crows took flight as a larger bird swooped above the platform. A vulture landed and began to pick through the remnants of the meal. From time to time, the bird stretched its neck and cast an eye upon Gandalf.

"Rather a speculative look," murmured the wizard. "Probably wondering how long he'll be forced to wait for the main course."

"He will wait long indeed if only you will come to your senses," said a voice near at hand.

"Saruman," Gandalf said wearily.

"You do not sound pleased to see me," remarked Saruman. He stepped forward and, brandishing his staff, drove off the vulture.

"You see," he commented. "I am your friend. I would protect you if you would let me."

"As you protected me from your servant."

"Now, Gandalf," said Saruman chidingly, as if the other wizard were a child, "surely you must see that insubordination must be punished."

"If I have been insubordinate to the will of the Valar, then I hope I _am_ punished—but I do not think I am the one who is guilty of that sin."

"Sin!" retorted Saruman. "Sin! Is it a sin to preserve yourself through an alliance with one who would otherwise destroy you—for that is what Sauron will surely do if I do not cast my lot with his forces."

"Ah," quipped Gandalf, "here I thought you were advising _me_ to cast my lot with _you_, but all along you have been talking about you and Sauron. Well, now that the matter has been cleared up, may I go?"

Saruman was unperturbed.

"But you must be lessoned by me. You must cast your lot with me, as I must cast my lot with Sauron."

"Then I would be lessened indeed."

"Your clever puns only serve to prove what I have said before: you have more in common with me than with any of those folk whom you call your friends. We are akin, you and I."

"I will concede that both you and I are capable of wielding words like weapons, but you do so to attack and I to defend."

"You defend nothing worth defending."

"I defend those folk I call my friends."

"Those 'friends' can do nothing for you."

"Nevertheless, I may be able to do something for them."

Saruman considered for several minutes before speaking again.

"My dear Gandalf," he said when he resumed. "Your feelings for your friends are strong, and such loyalty is to be commended. You want to protect them. Now consider this: you can do nothing to help them if you continue to languish here, but were you favored by the Lord of Isengard, you would be able to do much to advance their cause. If you truly wish to help them, you will yield to me."

"I suppose if I did, you would then employ me to carry to them your terms for their submission."

"And why not? If they submitted to me, it would be within my power to protect them—as it will be within my power to protect _you _once you deign to permit me to do so."

"And if they do not submit, you would destroy them—as you would destroy me," said Gandalf softly.

"Not willingly. I seek neither their destruction nor yours."

"I am touched," Gandalf said sarcastically.

"Of course you are," replied Saruman, as if he had not recognized Gandalf's sarcasm. "For surely you see that the friendship and favor of Saruman are of great worth during times as perilous as these."

"If the times are perilous," retorted Gandalf, "that is partly of your own making."

Saruman ignored the remark.

"Gandalf, I will leave you to consider my offer. It is in your interest; it is in the interest of those whom you call your friends. Do be sensible, my old friend."

With that, Saruman returned to his private chamber. To his vexation, it was cold, even though he had left orders that a fire be laid. He summoned a servant and commanded that the wood be set aflame. Still the room continued cold and dank. Moreover, when his dinner was brought up, it was no more satisfactory than the previous day's meals. Restless and dissatisfied, Saruman strode to his throne room, where something covered with a cloth sat upon a plinth. The Palantír. Saruman hesitated a moment but then pulled away the cloth and gazed into the globe. Within a few minutes, a light was kindled within, a flame that grew to cover the entire globe. Without blinking, Saruman gazed into it as if mesmerized, his lips moving in answer to queries that only he could hear. After a little while, the glow faded, and Saruman stepped back from the plinth.

"So I must find some way to make him talk, to learn from him what he knows of the Ring, where it will be taken, who will wield it—for surely not even Gandalf is such a fool as to think a Halfling could control its power! But how I am to make him talk? He is obdurate, the stubborn old fool."

Saruman felt some relief that he had not been commanded to kill his fellow wizard out of hand, but he was perplexed as to how to go about forcing him to speak.

"I must not do away with him, for he is privy to important information. Moreover, he represents no threat. He has no staff, and he may not descend from the tower without my leave. Isolated from those he calls friends, given the time to meditate upon his situation, at length he may come to repent of the folly of his ways. But time, aye, there's the rub. Will there be enough time to allow him to come to his senses on his own, without—persuasion?"

Once again, Saruman found himself pacing as he fretted over his dilemma.

"Gandalf, like myself, is a Maia, and therefore aware of his worth. Treating him like a lesser being will only offend his dignity and make him all the more stubborn. Yes, that is it. I must bring him down from the tower and lodge him comfortably, in conditions befitting his status as my fellow Istar. It is true that he is not as wise as I, but that is all the more reason for treating him with great leniency and forbearance. He can hardly be faulted if he is unable to perceive the truth as quickly as I did. But once he does, be sure that he will grasp upon the same solution as the one I chose. If he could only see what I have seen—ah, but he can! He must look into the Palantír. He will not want to, of course, but I shall contrive to bring it about. I will after all drug his food. Just a little something to make him more pliant. Then I shall bring him before the Palantír, and he shall gaze upon it and be enlightened."

Resolved upon this new course, Saruman hastened back up to the summit of the tower, where he found Gandalf pacing, his arms wrapped around his body in an effort to ward off the chill.

"Ah, Gandalf, this will not do. It is much too cold for you to remain any longer in this place. You must come down, aye, and you must eat as well—no doubt the lack of food makes you feel the cold all the more intensely. Come!"

Saruman gestured for Gandalf to precede him.

Gandalf looked carefully into Saruman's face before replying.

"I will not accept food from your hand."

Saruman's good humor cracked a little.

"If you constrain me to do it, I shall have an Orc draught forced down your throat."

"I _constrain_ you to do nothing. It is _I_ who am the prisoner."

"But by your own choice."

"If I had a choice, I would be miles away from this place."

"You have not that choice, but you can choose between aiding me or thwarting me and then suffering the consequences. Now accompany me to my chamber, where you may don dry clothes and restore your strength with warm food and hot drink. Even now my servants prepare an excellent mulled wine."

Mulled wine, thought Gandalf. Heavily spiced—just the sort of drink into which something could be slipped without the drinker ever tasting it.

He shook his head.

"I prefer to remain where I am."

Stymied, Saruman considered his next move.

'I could indeed have an Orc draught poured down his throat—but not yet. He can only grow weaker as the days pass and the nights grow colder. At length he will collapse, and under the guise of nursing him, I shall drug him. He will not have the physical strength to resist, and after he has gazed into the Palantír, he will not have the moral strength either'.

"Very well," he said aloud. "I will not force you to eat, but you know that you cannot persevere in your rebellious ways without at last coming to the point of collapse. You only delay the inevitable, and I do not see why you do not avoid suffering pain that in the end will be bootless."

Left alone, Gandalf considered Saruman's parting words.

'On one matter, Saruman speaks the truth. A Man who does not eat will at last collapse from inanition—and I am trapped within the body of a Man. And I fear lest the strength of my mind will depend upon the strength of my body. As my thoughts wander in a fever, will they at last turn in the wrong direction?'

Gandalf walked to the edge of the platform and gazed down at the ground far below.

'I know too much', he thought. 'I know too much. If I ever speak, what I reveal may prove fatal to all our hopes. I must _not_ speak'.

He gazed a long while at the tower's distant base.

"A fall from this height would be fatal," he said aloud. At last, he shook his head and stepped back from the edge.

"No," he said, "there is always hope. In any event, it is not for me to decide. I must await the will of the Valar."

Sick and weary, he lay down upon the flagstones, face to the sky, and folded his hands upon his chest. The cold rain beat upon him, but he felt it not. After several hours had passed, he thought he heard the beat of wings, and a breeze brushed his face.

"Have they come for me already?" he murmured. He opened his eyes. There sat Gwaihir the Wind-Lord, eyeing him curiously.

"I know that the ways of the Istar are mysterious, but don't they usually get under cover when it rains?"

Gandalf pushed himself up with an effort.

"Gwaihir," he gasped. "Help me!"

"Help you? Let me guess: you wish me to bear you somewhere in great haste."

"Yes!"

"Very well. I shall wait for you whilst you gather your gear and bid farewell to your host."

"No!" said Gandalf hurriedly. "We must depart without delay!"

"Goodness! Climb up, then."

Gandalf clambered up between Gwaihir's wings and lay down, flinging his arms around the eagle's neck.

"Not quite so tight!" exclaimed the bird.

"My pardon," apologized the wizard. "I have never been altogether comfortable with this mode of transport."

"Odd, as you rely upon it so often."

"Yes, but I feel much more secure upon the back of a horse."

Gwaihir launched himself into the air, and Gandalf involuntarily tightened his grip. Gwaihir forbore comment, instead asking Gandalf where he wanted to go.

"The most immediate threat is to Rohan, I think. Take me to Edoras."

"I will leave you near that place, but I shall not land at the fortress itself. The Men of Rohan are a little too free with their spears."

"Do put me down as close as you can, though."

"I promise you that I shall."

Saruman was sitting unhappily at his table, staring at the platters heaped with food. Apparently the cook was still unable to prepare dishes to the liking of the Lord of Isengard. Moreover, his other cause for irritation yet remained. The room was still too cold, even though he had ordered that wood be heaped upon the fire.

'Have I no servant capable of mending a fire?' he thought irritably.

A nervous half-goblin fearfully poked his head into the room.

"Master, there is news."

"Well," snarled Saruman, "out with it."

"The prisoner is gone."

Saruman leaped to his feet, alarm and regret mingled upon his face.

"He has starved to death! No! I thought his body could hold out longer!"

"No, Master, he hain't starved to death."

"Died of thirst?"

"No, Master."

"Perished from the beating?"

"No, Master."

"Succumbed to the cold?"

"No, Master.

"He hasn't, he hasn't done away with himself, has he—leapt from the tower in his despair?"

"No, Master."

Saruman's alarm and regret were being replaced by irritation.

"Well, how _did_ he die? Out with it!"

"He didn' die, Master."

"But you said he was gone, you idiot. Whatever did you mean?"

"He took flight, Master"

"Took flight? Impossible!"

"But he did, Master. A great eagle was seen landin' upon the tower and takin' off agin. When we went to investigate, we found the prisoner gone. His body in't to be found at the base of the tower, so he must'ave been taken off by the eagle."

Saruman stood stupefied for several minutes. At last he roused himself.

"Send Orcs and Wargs in the direction the eagle was seen to fly. In the end, the wretched bird must put the prisoner down, and I want my servants there to greet him. Bring the prisoner back to me alive and unspoiled. I will requite him for his refusal of my hospitality. And I will not be so kind this time. Before the end he shall wish that he had flung himself from the tower!"

The half-goblin scurried off to convey Saruman's orders. But Gandalf was far beyond Saruman's reach when the Orcs and wargs issued forth from Isengard in pursuit. It would be long ere Gandalf would return to Isengard—and when he did, it was Saruman who would be imprisoned there, surrounded by Ents and the waters of Isen that the Onodrim had unleashed upon the erstwhile stronghold.

But Gandalf could not know that. As Gwaihir winged away from Orthanc, Gandalf thought with sadness about the Istar whom he had considered his friend.

'Is he past amendment, I wonder? Perhaps, if he could be pried away from Isengard, he would come to see that his vaunted vision has led him astray. Yes, I shall continue to hope that he may in some way redeem himself'.

As for Saruman, he betook himself to his throne room, where upon a plinth, covered with a cloth, still lay the Palantír. He was afraid to look upon it, however, for he was in dread of the wrath of Sauron. Instead, his anger spent and replaced by regret, he collapsed upon his throne.

"Ah, Gandalf," he said in bewilderment, "why would you not consider yourself my friend? I do not understand. It was in your best interest to have done so. It was in your best interest!"

At last, reluctantly, drawn by a power he no longer had the strength to resist, he approached the plinth and slowly drew away the cloth to gaze once more into its depths. "Shadow and flame," he muttered, transfixed by the vision of a figure, robed in grey, plunging into a fiery abyss. At last the scene faded away, and, at a loss, he stepped back from the plinth, shaking his head regretfully

"So you have chosen death," he said aloud to the silent room.

Then he straightened himself and tried to shake off his somber mood.

"Well," he said briskly, "it seems that _I_ have chosen aright." Suddenly he shivered.

"It is cold in this chamber," he complained. "It is cold! _Why_ cannot those servants keep this chamber warm!"

With that he returned to his private chamber—equally cold and dank—and tried to force down yet another tasteless meal. In truth, it is said that never again did Saruman take pleasure in meat or drink. Indeed, when he came to the Shire, not even the strawberries in that place, juicy and luscious, sweetness and tartness mingled in perfect balance, found favor with the wizard. It was whispered about amongst his servants that he had become a Wraith, so little did he eat. And they trembled when he passed amongst them, for ever he was followed by a breeze, cold, cold, always cold.


End file.
